Lebanon Journal: Scenes from a war zone
The few people remaining in town have limited supplies. The hospital is running low on generator fuel and has less than a week's supply of antibiotics left.
Shirin Hamza sits in a hospital bed across town in Gondour Hospital. Her home was hit the night before, killing her father, mother, and brother. The apparent target was the next-door neighbor's house, where three Hezbollah fighters were killed, according to some of the men hanging out around the building. They all have short beards and carry walkie-talkies, the hallmarks of Hezbollah members. There are no guns to be seen.
The basement is filled with refugees; just about everyone remaining in the area sleeps here. Maybe 100 to 150 pack in at night. Kids play and demand that photographers take their pictures, but the adults do not want to talk to westerners.
A man outside the hospital says that the villages surrounding the town are completely controlled by Hezbollah's military wing. "Do not go there," he cautions. "They will arrest you."
A local stringer for a wire service photo agency says: "The Hezbollah guys will only let you shoot pictures of hurt civilians. Do not leave the town. Take pictures of what they tell you to and get out of here."
July 19
BEIRUT — There had been a tide of refugees into the Beirut area, taking shelter in schools and in parks. But now, that has stopped since all the roads and bridges to southern Lebanon have been cut by Israeli airstrikes and artillery. There are still many more who want to flee, but there is no way out and the roads are considered far too dangerous to use there, even if they were passable.
I visit a school in central Beirut packed with Shiite families from the south. (There are no fighting-age men around) They vent their emotions on me: "This is between two armies, not civilians," says one. "But they target us anyway. We only want the return of our prisoners and the Israelis to stop the occupation of the Sheba farms."
Mohammed, 15, is with his mother, two sisters, and a grandmother. They are living in a classroom. He is from the town of Haret Hreik in Beirut's southern suburbs, which is Hezbollah land. He will not say where his father is—he probably doesn't know as he likely is a Hezbollah fighter. "We go home during the day sometimes to get some clothes and food. Our apartment is not bombed."
On several visits to Haret Hreik, it looks much like it does on TV news. Apartment blocks near one of the many Hezbollah compounds and Hezbollah's al-Manar TV studios are destroyed. On Sunday, Um Ali (Mother of Ali) stands in the debris of her home, crying and looking through the rubble for articles of clothing. She begins to scream at the air as if there are Israeli jet fighters above. "Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar" (God is great). She pumps her fist over and over again. An unidentified woman with her in a black abaya and headscarf of the devout Shiite begins to chant: "With our blood and souls, we will redeem you, Sayeed Nasrallah." Hassan Nasrallah is the leader of Hezbollah; Sayeed is an honorific given to clerics who trace their direct lineage from the prophet Mohammed.
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